A Drop in the Dream Bucket

This is not a drop of golden sun. Compared to their nocturnal counterparts, my daydreams are sunsoaked romps in green meadows; they're happy-go-lucky strolls in the park; they don't require shoes. On the other hand, nighttime is the right time for laboring in labyrinths, which is a pretty good description of my after-dark dream activities, so I won't be editing this sentence anytime soon.

When I fall asleep in the daytime, it's almost always because I can't keep my eyes open. If I also happen to be stretched out, with the sun in my face, the odds of sundrenched romping aren't even worth calculating. Mechanical contraptions become increasingly unreliable with age, so it's better to save the abacus for reckoning beans, or lumber.

Returning to my original point, a recent episode of Jeff Takes a Nap featured exactly the sort of eye-popping antics that have made me a lifelong fan, and keep me coming back no matter how much I have to pay for popcorn. Not only did my dream unfold entirely on and about a bed remarkably similar to the one where I lay napping, it raised the bar for future productions by forcing the lead characterthat would be meto continually pry his eyes open with his fingers in order to avoid bumping into the other cast members and ruining the play.

Interpreting a dream's underlying meaning has never been my strong suit, but desperation leads me to conclude that a simple lack of sleep is to blame for this one.


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